Couch Time
by Hilary Parker
Summary: With a final resounding clank, Happy tossed the metallic square aside but gripped the hammer tightly. She stayed facing away from him though so Toby was pretty sure she didn't plan to hit him with it. Yet. So of course, he pressed. "Happy?" "Why is my relationship with my dad so important to you?" Happy demanded, without turning around. (Can be read as Gen/friendship)


Trigger warning: mentions of drug overdose and suicide.

To my fellow Quintis fans, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this, my first Scorpion fic. Written for a tumblr prompt by "Happy x Toby". Cross posted to AO3. No beta so all mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I think we all know I don't own Scorpion or its characters. I love them too much not to show it though. The only profit I make from the writing and sharing this work of Fanfiction is psychological.

After an hour and seventeen minutes with just himself, his books and his Scorpions cassettes for company, Toby decide he should have asked Sylvester to calculate the odds that he'd be the one spending New Years Eve alone at Scorpion when he had the chance. Walter had already left to ring in New Year's Eve playing video games with Ralph (Walt's words) and awkwardly courting Paige (Toby's own take on his friend's evening plans). Happy had been scarce all day, but he knew she had plans for dinner with her father, so it fell to him to keep Sylvester distracted until the car Paige had arranged for him arrived.

Toby had tossed random equations at Sylvester in between straightening his tie and offering him reassurances that, yes, taking Megan O'Brien out on a proper date was scary but totally doable. Dinner reservations were made, pre-purchased movie tickets were in his wallet, said wallet was in the pocket of his jacket, and Paige had made sure the driver had the evening's itinerary. Every detail was taken care of.

"And most important of all, Sly," Toby had added as he had all but forced the younger man into the back of the car, "Megan asked you to spend New Year's Eve with her. Go, have fun, and don't do anything I would do, because I'm a bad role model."

He had also slipped the driver a hundred and his number with a request to call him if Sylvester had a panic attack, but Toby felt confident that once Megan was picked up everything would be fine. Walter's sister seemed especially deft at handling Sly, knowing when to coddle the neurotic genius and when to be firm. Undoubtedly a skill she had developed thanks to having Walter for a brother.

The brick warehouse that was equal parts workshops, garage, office and living space seemed entirely too quite after that, so of course he filled the thundering silence with heavy metal and rock. He too quickly lost interest in the video games that had at first seemed the perfect activity, He ate a sandwhich only because den-mother Paige had made him promise he would eat. Then he got ready to go find a back-room game only to realize before he ever got out the door that for once the promised adrenalin rush of a high-stakes game held little appeal. It just wasn't how he wanted to ring in the New Year, or rather it wasn't the crowd of people he wanted to ring in the New Year with.

And now here he was in a once more silent building, stretched out on his favorite sofa, an autographed copy of Cal Lightman's 'The Lies We Live", in hand but unopened as he considered joining Walter, Paige and Ralph. It wasn't like he hadn't been invited, but the shrink knew he would feel like a fifth wheel without Sylvester and/or Happy there. Walter might not know it yet, hell , Paige probably didn't either, but the two of them (and Ralph) were rapidly becoming a micro-cyclone within the larger Scorpion cyclone.

And yes, maybe I'm just a little jealous of that, Toby considered, dropping the book on the floor and resting an arm over his eyes. He shoved the thought away and focused on regulating his breathing, maybe meditation or a nap...

The heavy ring of metal on metal jolted Toby awake sometime later and in his rush to stand he managed to stumble over the book he had dropped in the floor earlier. He picked it up, checked for damage and sat it on a table as he made his way to Happy's work area. Her back was mostly to him, feet planted, back straight, a ball pein hammer in one hand and pliers locked around a small sheet of metal in the other.

Settling against the door frame, Toby watched her work, gauging her mood and debating interrupting her 'meditation'. In truth he hoped she would notice him and stop on her own. Less risk of pissing her off more that way. And judging from the ferocity with which she was reshaping the sheet of metal into smaller and smaller squares she was definitely pissed. The question was, at who? Had she and her father had a row or had something else happened?

He lasted about five minutes on the waiting to be noticed tactic in part because the metal on metal with no background noise to offset it was killing his ears, but more because Happy was unhappy and pissed off and he wanted to know why. He wanted to make it better. So he brought two fingers to his lips and timed a ear piercing whistles between hammer falls.

It got him a glancing glare, before the mechanic let the hammer fall again.

"Happy!" He yelled on the next upswing.

"Go away, Doc," was the ground out response, punctuated by the metallic clank.

"Why aren't you at your Dad's?"

Clank.

"Because I'm here."

"But you're supposed to be-" he paused for the hammer strike, "-there."

"I was there. I left and came here."

CLANK

"I can see that, Happy. The question is why? Did he say or do something-"

With a final resounding clank, Happy tossed the metallic square aside but gripped the hammer tightly. She stayed facing away from him though so Toby was pretty sure she didn't plan to hit him with it. Yet. So of course, he pressed. "Happy?"

"Why is my relationship with my dad so important to you?" Happy demanded, without turning around.

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that everything about her was important to him, but the behaviorist bit back the words. Instead he tried for nonchalance in his response. "My dad is gone. Walter has replaced his with Agent McGruff, Sylvester's father has done enough damage for three lifetimes and don't even get me started on the deadbeat sperm donor that doesn't deserve Ralph. You've got the real deal, Hap. A chance to have an actual healthy relationship with your father."

Somewhere along the way glib had shifted to sincerity as Toby finished. "Maybe I'd really like to see what that looks like."

He watched as Happy very carefully set the hammer aside and turned to face him. The pain in her eyes belied the rigid anger she tried to project as she ground out, "this is my life, Doc, not one of your experiments."

Toby cursed himself silently and risked moving closer to Happy. He didn't touch her despite the itch in his palms and the ache in his chest, her pain his. "Happy, watching you, wanting to see you connect with Patrick Quinn, has very little to do with being a shrink and everything to do with being your friend."

He did touch her then, preempting the retreat he was sure she was about to make, Toby caught her hand and took a couple of steps back. "Luckily for you, though, I'm a friend who also happens to be a shrink, so talk to me. Let me help, as your friend the shrink. Or at the very least come hang out with me. It's New Years Eve, Happy, don't spend it locked inside the anger."

He managed to make his way back over to the couch, Happy in tow, though she was eyeing him skeptically as he dropped down to slouch with long legs stretched out in front of him. "Wait. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be off losing your last two pay checks?"

"Why do you always assume I'll lose." Toby feigned hurt to hide the triumphant smile that was threatening to spill over as Happy dropped down beside him. He cautioned himself not to read too much into the fact that she had opted to sit so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "I brought home thirteen grand last year you know."

"Yeah, but you lost seventeen three days later, thereby losing the resolution bet and having to shell out another hundred each to me, Walter and Sly."

Happy had mirrored his positioned, though with less slouch, and Toby grinned at their feet, or more at the fact that his sneakers were roughly a foot beyond her boots as he responded. "Yeah, well, gambling on not gambling is obviously a bad plan, so for this years resolution I think I'll resolve to help my friend connect with her father."

"You really don't give up."

"I have it from a very reliable source, that my tenacity in this area is a redeeming quality. Probably my only redeeming quality so, no, I don't give up, Happy. Not on you."

Taking another chance, he caught her hand in his. She went tense, but didn't pull her hand away so with an encouraging squeeze he asked, "What happened with your dad?"

"You first."

The gruff response was unexpected And Toby shifted enough to look at Happy without letting her hand go. "What do you mean?"

Happy turned her head against the back of the couch, her dark eyes meeting his and holding. "The few times you've talked about your folks its seemed like your dad at least was a good guy. What happened to him?"

"My mother happened to him," Toby said bluntly, after a long awkward moment when the question hung between them. "Managing her illness wore him down and burned him out until one day-right as I was getting started at Belview- he just gave up. Mommy dearest was in the throes of a mixed affective episode and just wanted it all to stop, so my dad helped her OD then put a gun in his mouth."

Saying the words out loud should have been cathartic, but instead they left him ashamed and scared and shoving to his feet to put space between himself and Happy. She held tight to his hand though, his name quiet on her lips.

Toby shook his head, unwilling to look at her and unable to walk away. "Don't, Happy, alright? Don't tell me your sorry. I don't want pity. Not from you."

"Yeah, well, that's a good thing jackass, since as my friend, you know damn well I don't do pity and as a shrink you should know the difference between pity and compassion. So sit your skinny ass back down before I change my mind, Doc."

The oddly compelling mixture of harsh exasperation and affection laced concern had Toby dropping back onto the sofa and in the next moment Happy had him in a fierce hug. He let his head drop to her shoulder on a sharp exhalation and wrapped his own arms around her just as tight.

Several long minutes passed before Happy cleared her throat. He thought she would pull away and forced himself to loosen his own hold but she just clung all the tighter, her voice slightly muffled when she spoke. "My dad cooked this stew that my mom used to make. The smell hit me the moment I walked in and it was like I was two all over again, Toby. I could see my mom standing at the stove in her floral print dress, singing along to Emmy Lou Harris and my dad at the table showing me how to dismantle a carburetor. It's stupid, but I panicked."

"It's not stupid, Happy. Smell is one of the strongest memory triggers and most olfactory memories are formed when we're children. Given the way your brain works anyway, it makes total sense that you got hit with an overwhelmingly vivid memory." As he spoke, Toby stroked a hand along Happy's back, desperately wanting to soothe away the tension and pain.

"But I just took off. I didn't even apologize and-"

"Happy, stop. You have nothing to apologize for, and even if you did, I can promise you, he's going to understand. All the man wants is to make things right with you," Toby assured her. Happy went quiet after that and he let her, content to hold and be held for however long she allowed it.

The chirp of a watch alarm startled them both a short while later and Toby again prepared to make himself let Happy go, and again she surprised him, this time shifting in his arms so that suddenly he had black denim clad legs draped over his and then her fingers slid into his hair, making him shiver even as she tugged lightly so that he brought his head up to meet her gaze. "The moment you make this creepy I'm kicking your ass, Doc. Got it?"

He could only nod in response, mouth suddenly dry, and then Happy was shifting again, and somehow they wound up stretched out on the sofa, him snuggled on to her shoulder like she was his favorite pillow, and holy hell was she ever. He could hear and feel her heart racing and knew that she could tell his was trying to beat its way out of his chest as she said, "Happy New Year, Doc."

"Yeah, it is."

Epilogue

They lay in silence after that, Happy's nimble fingers playing in his hair, long enough for both of their heart rates to settle. It was probably the most content Toby had been in his adult life outside of a card game, but the gears in his head never stopped turning and eventually the silence got the best of him.

"You've been checking out my ass."

Happy must have been close to dozing off, since her only response was an almost inaudible "Shut it, doc," as her fingers went still.

Though he knew he should leave well enough alone, the gambler couldn't help but up the ante. "You ordered me to (and I quote) 'sit my skinny ass down', which would imply you've been checking out m-OW, my glutious maximus."

"Be glad I can't get to the family jewels from this position," Happy retorted, but he could hear the humor in her tone as her fingers resumed playing in his hair. Toby sighed contendly as his eyes drifted closed.


End file.
